Return Again
by didez905
Summary: Alternate version to The Musketeers season two episode "The Return" in where Catherine and the Musketeers are minutes late in rescuing a tortured Athos. Based on the original script belonging to the BBC. Additions belong to me.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

The simple village of Pinon was filled with a simplistic people who never promoted themselves in gaining popularity among the local villages around them. With no one to lead them, how could they? For years they tended to their lands and kept to their businesses, as if, they gave account to a nobility of some sort and had no desire to bring attention to their unruled people. They remained to be what they wanted to be: A simple people trying to live a simplicity lifestyle in a complicated world.

But greedy barons and spoiled sons always tend to make an uproar of simple things. For when Baron Renard looked at the simple village of Pinon and saw it's unruled people, his heart didn't bleed for the people -whose only wish was to remain in their simple lifestyles undetected by those in power- but for his son's desire to have more dominance over them.

And when the son demanded, the father unhesitantly delivered; even if it led to hurting those that stood in his way. Ones that included the stubborn residents of the village Pinon and it's unfaithful noble, the Count da la Fère, who was unexpectedly dragged into the midst of the baron's schemes.

It was the second time in the duration of only a couple hours, in where Athos not only had to readjust his eyesight and focus on the unknown surroundings that engulfed him, but also had to endure the tight bonding of rope around his blistering wrists.

Unlike earlier, when his embodiment of faithful villagers crowded around him in hope that he would save them from the curse of greedy nobles that were plaguing their land, the same people stood around Athos in hopelessness, silently wishing that they had never relied on the Count de la Fère to save them in the first place. The ropes that bound his hands in the air, gave all that watched his humiliation no hope at all.

Athos hadn't fully returned from his unconscious state when he quickly came to the realization of where he was and what exactly he was hanging from. For how long he had been hanging in this position already, he was unsure, but the sun that bore down on his defenseless body and the ropes that had the responsibility of carrying the entirety of his weight told him that it was long enough.

He struggled to remain focused on the situation at hand. The bruises on his side gave him a quick review of what had happened prior to his episode in darkness and had served to be a minor distraction to the emotional pain that exceeded much worse than any small bruise, but whatever drugs that were placed in his drink from the night before, they still had their effect on his body.

Bits and pieces of the last conversation that he held with his estate neighbors began to form together in the drugged head of his and seemed to result in it not being a pleasant outcome for him; hence the position he was in at the moment.

The people somewhat blurred in his vision by the sun's harsh rays, became clearer and so did their distressed faces that were less appealing than their annoying ones earlier. Athos hung in silence and spoke not one word in his defense as the spoiled son of Baron Renard stepped out from beside his seated father, who anxiously waited for the sight of blood, and walked toward Athos who was extended in the air by a crude piece of rope on a contraption near the village well.

The same dark eyes that the Baron had were replicated on his son that approached with no restraint in causing affliction to him.

"You can't do this!"

The yell came from Bertrand, the village innkeeper, who jumped out from his position among the crowd to stop the hand of the Baron's son Edmond, who almost had succeeded in striking their defenseless Count.

With a blind rage Edmond pushed the elderly man to the dirt without any remorse as Bertrand approached him and tried to pull him away from where Athos hung.

"Take your hands off me!" Edmond screamed like a immature youth and reacted as such when he sent the whip striking the back of the courageous man again and again; splitting the man's old and sunspotted skin with ease.

Jeanne was the next to emerge from the crowd, as she ran in defense of her father who lay moaning in the dirt, while Edmond continued to beat him with a savagery that was instilled in him from birth. The same spark of bravery was seeded by her father in her spirit, as she left all worries of what would result of her actions and focused on helping her father.

"Leave him alone," she yelled in rage while running toward the uncontrolled brat who didn't let up once from his endless attack on the poor man.

With no regard to her involvement, Edmond tossed her to the side without wasting another second in his beating of the lesser. He continued on until he decided that the man had received his fill, but still contemplated to beat him further after he had finished with Athos.

Kicking the broken man to the side and then turning to the group of villagers who watched in terror, he eyed everyone one of them, as if, they were animals about to pounce. He kept his whip raised overhead to serve as a threat and prevent any other disturbances.

"Anyone else who dares to disrupt me again, will receive double of what I given him." Edmond said in a dark undertone that plagued his soul.

He caught a glimpse of the young lady that had rushed over to save her father and decided to leave her lying beside the man he had beaten for just a bit longer. Other plans were designed in his sick brain for the discipline he yearned to give her afterward. He knew that the task at hand hadn't been fulfilled and he longed to draw the blood of a disgraced noble before anything else.

Edmond looked to his father for approval and received his curling smile and nod in agreement. It was all he needed before he turned around to face Athos once again, this time with a strong intent to bring the whip down on the man that stood in the way of him getting what he really wanted: Pinon.

Stepping up on the wooden pedestal, Edmond cracked the whip in the air to bring Athos to his senses. He smiled sickly as he roughly grabbed Athos' face and pulled him in closer.

"You gave up your title for this?" He sneered through his teeth trying to tempt the calm man to become enraged.

Athos only stared at him coldly while trying to remain being his dignified self. His anger stayed on his tongue and remained intact for the time being. He could do no more, but hang idly while the young man humiliated him in front of the people of Pinon that he once called his.

A people that he choose not to care for, or Pinon that he wanted to forget; both were facts that the people came to understanding about their now titleless leader.

The look of distaste that was written on his features and his brooding stare didn't need to use one syllable of any vocabulary to serve its purpose in making the boy enraged at his model control. Athos' eyes continued to burn holes into the younger man, as the whip succeeded at hitting its first mark.

The strike passed through his dusty white shirt -dirty from the previous beating he had received while thrown to the ground and already soaked from the sweat that the sun had drained from him- and bit into the skin at Athos' side. The blow wasn't struck hard enough to draw any blood, but it left its distinguishable mark. The bloodless sight wasn't enough to please the assailant, so he struck him a second time with much more force than before, as if, the first blow was just for practice. The result left Athos squeezing his eyes shut in a quiet pain for a mere second until the sensation passed.

Edmond smiled sickly at his pain and only desired to bring the whip down again and again on the renounced noble. He stopped in satisfaction of making Athos flinch once again and then proceeded with another blow. And then another. And another.

If Athos had only seen the Baron Renard's devilish grin that aligned his face in his front seat viewing of the flogging, he would have lost all that remained of his honor to strangle the man right there in his seat. He remained detained and bound receiving the abundance of discipline on behalf of his people that unpoliently involved him.

He focused on Edmond instead and quietly idealized ways in removing his existence off the earth. His deathly stare gave all reason in the world for the young man to be afraid of the musketeer that he was beating, but Edmond's obliviousness to who Athos was and what he was capable of remained unknown.

Every strike left its mark and every person in attendance cringed as the whip came down and did its damage. The sound of leather striking flesh was all that echoed through the village of Pinon, for no one desired to interrupt the brutal occasion in order to receive the whip on their own skin. The beaten man that still lay near the edge of the scene, was example enough.

A woman of red hair and ill fashioned clothes, that was appropriate for no dinner party of any sort, stood hidden away from the pool of events that floated around Pinon's village square that morning. Her distance away from the commotion gave her the ability to draw back the hammer of her gun -without bringing any attention to her whereabouts- and was able stay in her desired location in order to make a long distance shot. A shot not designated for the ignorant boy, but for a small strand of rope that kept the flogged man defenseless.

Athos, from his height above the rest of the crowd, could scope out the image of the mysterious woman that aimed her gun, not at him, but above his head. Her familiarity drifted at the edge of his mind like an unnatural fog, but his focus on the woman was short lived as the hand of his attacker was raised once again to bring down the instrument of torture on his body.

The bang that echoed through the village was dissimilar to the original crack of the whip that sounded throughout the naturally peaceful estate and it disrupted the boy from his short-lived enjoyment for the second time that morning. Edmond's whip struck the humid air instead as his subject had left his designated spot hanging in humiliation for all to see.

The shot that found its mark, cut the rope in two; dropping Athos to the ground with no warning and no possible way to keep his footing. His lack of strength sent him falling to the earth with such a dangerous thud that it left him lying in stillness for a brief moment of time. The extend of the damage soaked his off-white shirt and was clearly visible to all those that watched in awe as he dropped.

If it wasn't the gunshot that caused the Baron's soldiers to become frantic, the next word of news made them hasty in leaving the estate of Pinon behind.

"Soldiers are coming!" One of the guards alerted his master and his other comrades after turning around from his viewpoint in the woods, where horses and their riders were approaching their location at a frightening speed.

Baron Renard quickly became disheveled at the new development and easily came to the decision to pull back from their misdemeanors; not wishing to remain vulnerable to those approaching on horseback. His taste for blood had to remain on standby.

"WITHDRAW!" He ordered with a quiver in his voice. "We'll be back."

There was no argument against leaving the soon-to-be soldier infested village, as almost all of the Baron's men mounted their horses, including that of his son that still wasn't finished with his work. Edmond mounted hurriedly, but the sight of Jeanne, that still lay near her beaten father, reminded him of plans he had yet designed for her.

"Bring the girl," He yelled to two of his men nearby, who still had yet to mount their steeds.

They obeyed without hesitation and tightly grabbed the young girl who fought against them, desiring only to be with her father. The dust of the land lifted up and surrounded them as they pulled her away and her screams combined with the trodding of horses' hooves that were fleeing the scene.

"NO! NO!" Athos -now fully conscious- shouted his disagreement against the order from his place on the ground.

Jeanne's screams gave Athos all the strength he needed in order to pull himself off the dirt ground in one quick movement to try to stop the kidnapping from taking place. His body scolded him for making the rash action, but he continued to step forward as the horses started to pull away and Jeanne was lifted up on Edmond's horse like an animal.

"RENARD!"

Athos' scream was lost in the commotion of the events at play and he could only move so close to the riders who blocked his path deliberately. His bound hands and bruised body were no match against the swarm of Baron's men that stood in between him and the girl, so he walked in the midst of the crowd of villagers remaining defenseless.

While all had taken place, not one of the villagers of Pinon had defended the victims or even run away from the horrors of the day. They still stood in a disorderly line watching the outcome of the day, and only turned to watch the Baron and his men flee for their lives. Athos stood amongst the villagers in silence and watched the Baron's clan disappear in the darkness of the woods. He felt, as if, he was just as useless as the lot of them.

He didn't have to double guess on who was riding to his rescue, as he turned around to find four of his most trusted friends approaching on horseback. Treville, Aramis, Porthos, and d'Artagnan arrived wordlessly upon seeing the emotional damage inflicted on the people and the physical damage done towards Athos. When seeing his hurt friend, Porthos was the first to dismount his steed and cut the ropes that restrained Athos' inner fury.

Athos exchanged no words with the bigger man as the bonds fell away. The look in his eyes told Porthos everything that needed to be discussed.

* * *

"This might sting a little."

The warning came from Aramis, who stood behind the marred back of the brave Bertrand that was being attended to. The slashes that aligned the man's back were numerous and painful. A few bleed and some were most likely to leave scarring, but the man's years had seen worse days. Bertrand labored in his breathing as the damp cloth pressed against the wounds, but the pain was more welcome than the grief that struck his heart at his daughter's disappearance.

"What will they do...with my Jeanne?" He asked gasping in pain while Aramis continued to work.

Porthos standing very near to where Aramis was tending the wounds, shared a worried look with his friend while giving a bottle of brandy to Bertrand to ease the pain. He patted his shoulder without a second thought and decided to keep his mouth closed.

Having a good idea what the answer to the question was that Bertrand had asked, Aramis refused to make it known to the already uneasy father.

"Don't worry we'll find her," Aramis answered instead, giving a sense of encouragement to the man. The only worded hope that left anyone's mouth that morning.

Athos miserably watched the conversation take place while leaned up against a nearby tree to support his weight. He sulked in the darkness of his past and he wore the reminder of it on his face like a battle scar. Now wearing a long cloak to cover up the exchange he had with the Baron's son earlier, he refused to have his wounds treated by his friend and rather choose to stand away in a silent fury that everyone could sense, even young d'Artagnan who approached him cautiously.

"Athos…" d'Artagnan called to his miserable friend trying to bring him out of his thoughts.

He had seen the outcome of the punishment that was inflicted on Athos -without having to been present during it- and he realized that it was much more than a brutal whipping that bothered the man. He stepped closer and could already see smallish drops of blood escaping from the cuts from the rope that was once around Athos' wrists.

"You're hurt. At least let Aramis take a look," He tried to sound comforting, but it came out more bossy than he had hoped.

Athos answered with no words. An annoyed look was all that he gave his worried friend as he continued to stand unmoved by his request.

D'Artagnan heavily sighed in response to being ignored and silently regretted trying to help the man. They both stood in silence as d'Artagnan tried to place his next words carefully. He almost completely turned around to leave Athos alone in his misery, but otherwise choose to stay to delicately persuade his friend.

"Give up your title if it makes you happy. I mean that," d'Artagnan started. "But think about these people. They live on your land. They need your help."

Athos wasn't pleased at d'Artagnan's statement as he stared at him in dissension. He angrily threw back a piece of hanging cloth from the front of his cloak to the back, only realizing when he finished that his sore body didn't appreciate the quick movement. He closed his eyes for a second to contain his short-lived pain.

"I tried," Athos' snapped back, hinting toward the beating he received after interfering with his afflicted people. "I have nothing left to offer them." He finished dryly trying to close the talk between them.

He left d'Artagnan's side without looking back and walked away in a hidden pain his friends could easily detect. Porthos blocked his way without sympathy and refused to step aside.

"If I didn't know you better, I'd say that sounded pretty cowardly," Porthos scolded him while standing in his way.

"Get out of my way," He threatened while refusing to look up at the man blocking his path.

The towering man didn't move at his command and remained with his feet planted directly where Athos desired to go.

Porthos continued, unmoved by his friend's threat, "The Athos I know always fights against injustice, wherever 'e finds it."

The reminder sent a wave of guilt at Athos, but his stubbornness still refused to listen. He finally acknowledged the man in front of him by looking at him in a certain sadness.

"Not here, not this time," Athos answered firmly and bluntly, as if, he would never change his mind on the matter. His brooding eyes threatened the man to step aside without saying another word. A moment of silence drifted between them, then Porthos obeyed and let the man pass.

D'Artagnan already knew where the mind of Athos wandered. The taint that the village of Pinon left on his friend, was all connected to the woman known as Milady. The last time he had visited his former hometown, resulted in his spirit being torn in the same way that it was now. It was all common knowledge between their inseparable group.

"I thought Milady's influence over you was done," d'Artagnan spoke while following Athos' footsteps over to where he started to prepare his horse. He only voiced what all of his friends wanted to elaborate on, but lacked the courage. D'Artagnan, always full of courage and ideas, stressed out his opinion openly not fearing the outcome.

Athos tightened his horse's saddle aggressively and lost his temper halfway through d'Artagnan's comment only to scoff out loud. There was no response he had to offer, despite his anger bottled up inside, so he continued to look at him darkly.

"Let this happen and they become her victims, too," d'Artagnan added trying to make the man understand.

Athos understanding well enough, refused to listen anymore to the bickering of younger musketeer and stepped away from his horse to create a distance between them.

"Athos, these people have no other protection."

d'Artagnan continued to follow the musketeer, not leaving him alone to sulk in his heartache.

This time Treville, former captain of the musketeer regiment, stood in Athos' path, making the wounded man come to an annoying halt yet again.

"Only us," Treville said authoritatively, looking at his best soldier with a sympathy that tried to convince him to change his mind.

Athos couldn't argue with the captain. He was right. But he surely didn't want to deal with painful memories that Pinon only seemed to offer and have to live with all the regrets that came to the surface upon his return. The captain could never understand. No one would ever understand.

"This is not your fight," Athos reminded all his friends that seemed keen on staying.

"It is now," Porthos immediately answered back without delay. "No one 'urts my friends and lives to tell it."

"And I like it here," Aramis interjected his optimistic self, causing Athos to finally lose his interest in hearing anyone speak any longer.

There was no chance of talking his friends out of staying. Their staying was inevitable, but his was not. Athos turned his back on the four of them and stormed off; desiring nothing but silence.

"Athos," d'Artagnan called after him, already knowing that he wouldn't listen to reason.

Athos ignored his friend, grabbed the reins of his horse, and walked him near to the edge of the village in order to mount him in one quick gesture, but the injuries he had received not too long ago made it an unbearable task. He tried to pull up on the saddle, but stopped halfway as his sides burned in discomfort.

Holding his breath and gritting his teeth, were the only ways, in where, he was able to proceed in escaping the torture by mounting his horse and leaving the tiny village behind.

Porthos, Aramis, d'Artagnan, and Treville refused to watch as the victimized man rode off in a dark depression that was slowly eating away what they had left of their friend.

They didn't expect him to come back.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

The memories related to Pinon were unwelcomingly revived in abundance as Athos rode toward his former estate. There was nothing to stop the flood of them, the good and the bad ones, resurfacing as he past by the familiar territory. The pain began anew as each one played through his mind, causing him to long back for the physical pain that was numb compared to the emotional conflict that consumed him now.

The fields of his estate were dark and untenanted as he passed through them, stopping only once to reminisce on a life he once knew. A life he secretly longed back for every day in service with the musketeer regiment.

* * *

 _He saw her clothed in a simple white cotton dress racing through the golden fields away from his grasp. He could almost feel the unharvested wheat, that swayed in the breeze, brush up against his fingertips as he followed her every movement. Reaching for her body, that through marriage belonged to him, he tried over and over again to pull her in, but was seconds late as she escaped from his touch and her teasing continued._

 _She had finally stopped and turned to face him, already lost without her lover's arms around her. She let him take her into his arms and swing her around in a tender moment sealed with a kiss that only true lovers could share._

 _The moment was far from over when they fell down to the earth -still in each other's grasp- and enjoyed a moment of pleasure as their lips continually pressed together. Their happiness lost in the unharvested fields of wheat that hid them during the moment of their precious time together._

* * *

Athos sat on horseback staring with glazed eyes at the emptiness that the field held for him now. The times that he once held precious on the vacant territory, now was a torturous burden to bear. A burden that would be dissolved with a quick drink that he hoped to find in the rubble of his estate.

Down a narrow path between the woods, far enough away from the commotion in the village, lay the ruins of manor that reeked of the haunted memories of the past. He knew the pathway better than that of the corridors of the Louvre that he roamed so frequently as his duty demanded it.

Athos crumbled the door down with all the strength he had left, ignoring his teared fleshed that reopened when he did so. Catching his breath, he breathed in the smoky fumes that the house left behind, once again exposing himself to the demons of the past that he desired to leave behind. He craved for more.

He wandered the house like a ghost seeking a peaceful escape and left his ashy footprints in every open room that wasn't fully consumed by the flames. Every intact object left behind a history he once knew, a famariality he longed to have back.

A majority of his inheritance lay in desolation and ruin that he would never get a chance to see again. He was somewhat appreciative of the torch that his wife had taken to tangible estate, but the flames could never reach the intangible still burdened his heart.

Athos took in every detail and every memory he could salvage, whether it hurt or not. He let it drown him completely, letting it distract him from the untreated slashes that underlined his skin under his cloak.

* * *

" _Help! He's dead! Your brother's dead!"_

 _The voice of his brother's betrothed echoed down the flight of stairs that he climbed in haste. He moved up the steps quickly but unconsciously, not believing the words that echoed down the stairwell._

" _She did this. Your wife, she murdered Thomas."_

 _Moving past the woman that was speaking in riddles, he found his way to the room that smelt of blood and deceit. There he saw what was spoken in truth and stepped closer to the body of his brother lifeless at his feet; the blood painted on his wife's hands._

" _He tried to force himself on me. I had no choice."_

 _His wife's words floated past him like a dream, as he stared at her in bewildered shock._

 _Thomas was dead. Anne had killed him._

" _Help. Help me."_

 _Her sobbing continued as servants restrained her from approaching her lover that once held her so tenderly in his arms. He held no love in his eyes now, only a sorrow that he would carry the remainder of his life. He didn't approach her, rather he stayed his distance still in a shock that restricted his movements._

" _Help me. Help me, please. Please."_

 _He let the servants drag her away. He didn't interfere, nor did he want to. His brother lay in pools of blood at his feet, because of her. Because of his loving wife._

 _He stood in a silent pain that hit him with such a force that it left him empty. He was alone._

 _He refused to listen to the sobs of his wife as they carried her out of the room._

* * *

"Athos."

His name echoed in the empty room where his brother once lay. Now the body was gone, the blood was gone, and Anne was gone. He only remained, as if, he had never moved from that spot since the accident had taken place years prior. He felt the grief plague him as it once did many years ago.

"Athos."

His name called for a second time, suddenly brought him back to his senses and awakened him from the nightmare that he was reliving. He gasped out loud turning partly to find his brother's betrothed standing behind him like a physical ghost from his past. She stood in patience for his recognition as she eerily looked on.

"Catherine?" Athos questioned in surprisal, already knowing that it was her that had spoken.. She hadn't changed too much in the years he had been away, but the sight of her caused him to feel guilt. He thought not of her once in all those years.

He slowly turned around to fully acknowledge her presence, but she moved on like a ghost beckoning him to follow. And he did so.

"When my father died, his debts took everything, including the house," Catherine spoke as she climbed down the stairs expecting Athos to follow.

Athos followed at a slower pace, wincing as each step he took down the flight of stairs was harder than before. His renewed senses, renewed his pain. He gripped tight on charred railing seeking more balance.

"So I moved into the servant quarters," She continued on, not realizing that the man struggled behind her. "I didn't think you'd object."

Her words floated past him like muffled voices in the distance. Like a drunken man, the room spun around him and the world felt unsteady. The customary feeling that Athos had now, was ten times worse than his average hangover, as the room began to grow dimmer.

He reached for support as the stairway railing came to an end, but the wall was much too far away from his grasp. Athos felt his legs give way and all his strength leave him as he fell to the floor unsettling the ashes that were left untainted for quite some time.

He watched as Catherine turned in haste in response to his fall, but her hardened eyes watched without sympany as he struggled to stay conscious. His stubborn spirit fought to keep himself in full awareness, but he decided to let the darkness take him, rather than feel helpless and his pride diminish.

He finally found simple peace once he closed his heavy eyelids on his nightmarish reality.

* * *

The escape from reality was short-lived when Athos awoke to his bare skin being dabbed with a solution that made him feel, as if, he jumped into a fire itself.. He remembered Aramis' kind warning to Bertrand about the cleansing process stinging a little and silently wished to have received that same warning from Catherine, as she tended to the multitude of slashes on his back and ribs.

He grabbed at her hand in the second he became fully conscious, stopping her momentarily from her work. His instinct reaction had knocked over the bowl she kept on her lap; spilling the contents all over the servant quarters' floor. Receiving a hard sigh that escaped her mouth, she pulled aggressively out of his grasp and reached for the pieces of the bowl that had also shattered across the room.

"I was finished anyways," Catherine snapped, avoiding his stare.

Embarrassed, Athos let the woman continue cleaning up his mess without a word. He struggled to sit up, without causing a disruption to his settled wounds and firstly noticed that his wrists were tightly bound when he pushed himself up in a sitting position.

As he sat without any covering to his upper torso -that Catherine had been cleaning- he was suddenly more observant of the lashes he had in numerous quantity and the damage it left behind. Upon noticing it, he only wondered why he never noticed the dangerous extent of the damage he had taken in the beating earlier and why he didn't let Aramis tend to his injuries. He realized that his pride always took charge of the circumstances that surrounded him, whether he liked it or not.

He used what time he had to observe the room he had rarely visited in his childhood and adulthood. The servant quarters were out of sight and out of mind when he had lived in the estate, therefore his visits to the room were out of the ordinary and unnecessary.

The smell of dried herbs and plants filled the room as each one hung from the ceiling in no decorative manner. The room untouched from the flames that destroyed the rest of the manor, was all that remained of the brightness that the house had once contained. The sun poured through each available window with ease, giving the room a pleasant smell as the light touched each scattered plant around the room.

"You live like this?" He asked in curiousity, trying to conversate with the woman that had just saved his life.

"I survive," Catherine said shortly while picking up the last piece of broken pottery of the stone floor. She desired not to focus on the idea of it. "It's not quite what I was promised when I was betrothed to your brother." She added in bitterness, hoping that Athos would sympathize her.

The mention of his brother gave Athos an uncomfortable feeling that made him ignore her comment entirely. Instead he gently lifted himself off the bed and walked over to a longbow he spotted leaning against the wall. He lifted it and observed it, only hoping that it would bring along a different conversation.

"I hunt and trap my own food," Catherine claimed, as if it was normal for everyone in her social standing. "It's amazing what you can learn when you've run out of choices," She added again in a bitterness that Athos could almost taste, while snatching the bow away from his grasp and placing a clean white shirt in his empty hands.

She tried to keep her eyes away from his injuries without success, so she held his stare for a brief moment of time as questions lingered on the edge of his tongue. Her rough actions made Athos choose wisely before speaking in any manner towards her during the remainder of his visit.

The bottled-up anger that she held inside for far too long, was quite similar to his own that he had stored away for the many years since he seen her last. He could only sympathize her, for he realized that it was by his doing that led her to the life she was living now and that he hadn't thought of her once in the many years he seeked solace.

"It was Thomas'," Catherine said while watching Athos trace the familiar lacing around the sleeves before pulling the shirt over his head.

He pulled his arms through the sleeves like an old man whose joints refused to cooperate; trying not to upset the work that Catherine had done dressing his wounds. She watched him look at her almost embarrassed that he was somewhat helpless when the shirt didn't oblige to his direction.

"Here," She said a bit more gently as she grabbed at the shirt and pulled it completely down over him. Without permission, she begin to fix the strings near the collar of the shirt that has long been unused, then reached for his blue cloak that was untainted from the beating, unlike his former white shirt that was no where to be seen.

"I saw you in the village. I didn't recognize you, the clothes," Athos said almost apologetically as she continued to dress him, not as roughly as her sensed spirit tended to be.

"I'm told this is the height of fashion in Paris," Catherine laughed in simple amusement as she pulled the blue cloak over his head like a child.

Athos continued to stare at her in approval, for her endurance to live modestly despite the hardships she had endured, reminded him somewhat of himself. His musketeer career had helped drown out the sorrows of his past and help him live in a normality that he couldn't manage anywhere else. The constant responsibilities of his duty to the regiment, kept his focus on his obligations rather than his personal desires. His off-duty periods were always kept at bay with a drink in hand.

"That was quite a shot you made," He praised her, trying to return some of the kindness she showed him.

"Thomas taught me to shoot," Catherine responded in sadness; once again trying to conversate about the past that Athos tried so very hard to forget. She now focused on his wrapped wrists that she bound earlier, sensing that they needed more treatment. She began to unwind the useless bandages.

Athos dropped his eyes at the mention of his brother's name and respectively let the conversation come to a close. The uneasy feeling he felt every time Catherine mentioned Thomas' name gave him more pain than his raw wrists that were now exposed and treated once again. She dabbed at his wrists with a damp cloth and didn't look up at his downcast face. Whether she desired to cause him guilt or not, her words stung a bit too deeply.

"I was listening behind the inn..." She started another conversation knowing that Athos wouldn't respond to the latter.

She turned completely away from his presence to rinse the bloodied cloth.

"I heard what you said to Renard," She stopped and turned around to search his face for an honest answer while handing him a different cloth to hold against his burns. "About giving up your title. Is it true?"

Athos looked away from her curious stare and refused to answer her direct question. Knowing her true motives, she already knew the answer to her own query and only desired to hear it verbally from his own mouth. He refused to indulge her curiosity and looked everywhere else besides her uncomfortable stare.

When she realized that Athos wouldn't answer again, Catherine walked past him in a quiet rage trying to tame her tongue that sought to speak only of her hatred toward his wife that destroyed everything she ever wanted.

"How it must have hurt to learn that your precious wife was nothing more than a common thief and fraud," She spat in an anger that she had bottled up inside while walking over to the hearth that gave her a warmth that was unnecessary as her blood boiled from her temper.

Athos followed her steps speechlessly while holding the cloth against one of his wrists. The cool sensation relieved at least one part of his damaged body temporarily of its severe burns, as the woman beside him fumed out loud. He let her carry on in rage without interference.

"What was her real crime in your eyes, I wonder?" Catherine asked making Athos stop and look at her disapproval written in her features. "Murdering your brother, or beguiling you?"

The question was unanswerable like most of them. He again chose to refuse to answer her prodding questions and rather continued staring at her in sympathy. A sympathetic look that quietly told her to calm herself.

She took a deep breath, after realizing that she overstepped her boundaries, and patted a nearby chair for him to be seated. Athos did so, without complaint and eased himself in the chair, hoping to stay seated for awhile.

Grabbing a bottle from one of her many cupboards and two glasses to serve it in, she poured out the substance into one of the glasses and handed it to her guest.

"Raspberry brandy? Not quite vintage, but it's good," Catherine offered while holding the glass in front of Athos, who didn't decline the offer. She noticed him wince as he reached to grab it from her, clearly upsetting one of his many injuries.

Athos held his nose against the rim of his cup and smelled the hint of raspberry and the spirits that his drink contained. He proceeded to let the smell linger and waited patiently to taste of the concoction while Catherine stood in front of him holding out her glass.

"To old times," She toasted while searching the man -of very few words- for a response of some sort.

The toast did catch his attention and he held her stare. He looked at her in amazement as he was dumbfoundedly taken back at her statement.

"The one toast I can't drink to," He asserted while refusing to drink the contents of the cup.

"Was it all so bad?" Catherine asked bluntly. "We've known each other since we were children."

Athos looked away and pulled the glass to his lips, trying to act as though the conversation bore him.

"Have you forgotten what our fathers wanted for us?" Catherine continued on trying to remind Athos of secrets he desired to leave covered.

"We were too young to be betrothed," Athos argued back.

"We would have married," She corrected him.

Holding her tongue for only second in order to find her next words, Catherine refused to keep any complaints contained.

"And then you brought that woman home and I was quietly passed on to Thomas," She

added in rebuke and then finished her glass.

Athos watched her with a new heartache that enveloped him now. The woman he had known as child had all but vanished away. All that remained, was the haunted memories of what could have been. She let those memories consume her soul and drive her spirit. He wondered if he was any different.

"I liked him well enough. As one might a brother," She admitted while reaching behind him for the brandy and refilling her glass for the second time. "I was content. But even that was stolen from me."

"You've been hurt too much because of me," Athos admitted almost instantly hoping to put the entire conversation behind them.

"Because of her," She corrected him again while sitting back down in the chair across from him.

The silence that followed after, for only a short moment, led both to avoid each other's stare and rather observe the glowing hearth beside them. Catherine again broke the silence a moment later with her never ending questions.

"Tell me Athos, in all these years, has my suffering ever crossed your mind?" She asked honestly.

Athos quickly turned away from the fire to look at the woman that his brother was destined to marry if he had lived. She wasn't his, never his, despite what she wanted to believe. He didn't understand what more Catherine wanted from him and how much more sympathy he could give the woman.

The answer to her question was no, but with what compassion he had left in his heart, he refused to answer it so directly. A annoyed sigh escaped his mouth as he tried his best to sound apologetic for misplacing his thoughts of her.

"If there's anything I can do to make things…" He began while waving his glass in the air nonchalantly.  
"Well, you could turn back time, Athos," Catherine cut him off before he could continue on with his false promises. "Is that within your powers?" She mocked.

She raised the glass to her lips and emptied it yet again as Athos watched her. She rose up from her chair to find the pitcher and refill her cup.

"Are you going to stop Renard?" Another question escaped her drunken lips while pouring her glass for the third time.

"It's not my battle," He argued firmly already exhausted at his friends pressuring him to get involved.

"They almost killed you today," Catherine reminded him while sitting back down for the last time.

"All the more reason to leave," Athos said with an rebellious attitude after receiving the unnecessary reminder.

"I have no argument with the Baron," She stressed while wearing her anger on her sleeve. "All I want is to restore the estate to its proper place. To have something of my old life back. Perhaps he can give me that."

"Renard can't be trusted," Athos advised.

"Oh, who else can I trust? You?"

Her words slapped him across the face so hard that he almost felt the sting of the strike. His mind couldn't process a defense against her harsh statement, so he looked at her darkly and refused to fight with the woman that had just saved his life.

The brandy could have been blamed for the hateful speech that she consistently used toward Athos, but he knew every word that left her tongue that afternoon came from her darkened heart. A bitterness -that could never be cured- devoured her spirit to the point that Athos couldn't even recognize the woman that sat across from him.

"You did well to hang her." Catherine finally said letting her tongue strike again. "I hope she's burning in hell."

Athos remained silent. Whether the idea of hanging his wife was right or wrong in his eyes or Catherine's, at that moment in the servant quarters in the estate of Pinon, it didn't matter. Catherine was right in the idea of not being able to reverse time, for what had happened was past and could never be altered. At that moment, she didn't need to know of Anne's survival. Not yet.

The repercussions of what followed after the hanging was entirely on his hands. It was his fault that the people of Pinon were suffering after the many years of being unruled and was his culpability that Baron Renard infested his lands now.

What his resurrected wife had become in the hands of the now deceased Cardinal and every death she carried out in his service, had him to blame. Regardless of Catherine's blame on his wife for the haunted memories that the estate contained and her miserable life, Athos knew that it was solely his doing that brought all to occurrence. It was his decision to marry Anne over her in the first place.

Without taking another sip of his half full glass, he left the cheerless room with only a quick word of thanks between them and escaped past the ruins of the estate to the outdoor air, leaving Catherine alone to sulk in her despair. Taking a deep breath of the revitalizing afternoon air after the stuffiness of the old house, Athos now knew what was expected of him.

Still not wanting to take the responsibility for the lands of Pinon, Athos knew there were determined people like Bertrand and Jeanne that wanted everything that it offered them and could care for it without his help. Pinon was no longer a home to Athos, for the constant hauntings he received since being forced to return to the property had been a reminder of that very thing, but it was the only home to the small group of villagers that had no where else to turn to. The title would be better placed in their hands, than his own. He wanted nothing to do with it anymore.

While mounting his horse in a quicker action than before, the only words that echoed in Athos' mind were the ones that stung when Porthos had given them earlier.

" _The Athos I know always fights against injustice, wherever 'e finds it."_

And that was the truest statement about Athos' character until the difficulties of the day prolonged. He had found injustice in his own hometown, but deliberately chose to ignore it. In doing so, he was a coward like his friends had said.

If he really was the man his friends called Athos, his sword would be ready and unsheathed for the next intruder that stepped on Pinon soil. What had he done thus far to kept the legacy of his name? He let Jeanne be taken away from her beaten father, let the Baron openly humiliate him in front of his people, and finally abandon his friends to take care of his failures.

Pointing his horse in direction of the village he had fled from, his first desire was to return and make amends for his lack of character. A lack of character he displayed to both the people of Pinon and his friends who had insufficient faith in his return.

Athos realized that it would be his last return to the simple village of Pinon and his final act as the Count da la Fère.

And with simple thought, he smiled.


End file.
